


Firstborn.

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [9]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fatherhood, Feels, Finding Peace, Love, Marriage, New parenthood, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:50:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5902498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm and Sam have escaped to a villa in Italy following the trial of Russell Brewer and the involvement of Ollie Reader.<br/>Malcolm has to get used to new things.........</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firstborn.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is one I've had on the back burner since I wrote New Horizons in April last year. Then I had an idea the other day and decided to write it up! 
> 
> It is partly based on my experiences and memories from when my own son was born. 
> 
> The story follows on directly from my 'Dignity' story. Which was among the first I wrote. There are references to characters from Dignity in this story. (It also contained one of my theories for the framing of Malcolm at the Goolding Enquiry.)  
> It is comes just before New Horizons and The Beige Power Ranger stories in the 'Married with kids' Malcolm AU.

FIRSTBORN.

Nights here were balmy and tranquil. No sound of traffic. Just a distant whisper of the sea and the cicadas chirruping soothingly.  
The sound was restful and calming.  
Windows open, muslin curtains stirring slightly in the breeze. 

Sam woke to find herself alone.  
Naught but a dent in the bed beside her. 

If there was one thing her husband coped reasonably well with, it was sleep deprivation.  
A past master. Although even for him, as for her, a proper night's kip was but a distant memory.

Swinging her legs out of the bed, she stretched and yawned. Padding across the wooden floorboards to search for him.

oOo

Escaping to the villa had been the best thing they could possibly have done.  
Situated on the Amalfi coast. Close to a pleasant fishing village. Quiet. Relaxed.  
No one needed it more than he. It had been four weeks now, since the court case ended.  
The trauma of that, combined with everything else that had occurred since the Goolding Enquiry, had taken their toll. 

Left him a shadow of a man. Vindicated, yes........but scarred, physically and emotionally. 

How their lives had changed. From despair and hopelessness, to optimism and contentment. 

Unrecognisable, since their new addition. 

 

Nothing could have prepared Malcolm for the moment his son came into the world. 

Nothing.

He squatted there, helpless, at his wife's knee, watching as he was delivered, a squalling, bloody mess. 

The most wonderful sight he'd ever seen. Choked with emotion. 

So proud of his wonderful wife, exhausted but elated as she was. She had given him this.  
This woman, whom he loved more than his own life, the greatest gift she could ever give him. Something he never, even in his wildest dreams, thought to have. 

A child. 

It was a fucking miracle. 

Together they had made this thing. A perfect miniature being, precious, containing a piece of both of them.  
It was hard to get his head around. 

There was no time to get used to the idea.......hardly a day.  
The trial of Brewer followed hot on the heels of the delivery.  
In the courtroom Sam had accompanied him only two days after giving birth. 

It was all a blur. 

But now they were free. 

Malcolm could finally, truly, embrace fatherhood, and all that went with it. During the past month, a routine firmly established.  
Joke!  
There was no routine, despite Sam's best intentions.  
Everything dependant on this small, challenging, implacable dynamo. Which came fitted with Duracell batteries, apparently, they never fucking stopped.....or ran down!!  
His hapless father soon wrapped around his son's chubby finger. A slave to his every whimper, a fool for every smile that was really wind, mush for each minuscule kick of a foot or grip of a tiny hand. 

oOo

Leaning against the doorpost of the little bedroom right next door to their own, Sam spied on him.  
Pacing, slowly.  
Up and down, up and down, jiggling slightly as he walked. 

The tiny bundle cradled against him. One hand under the little padded bottom. The other rubbing gently in circles on his back. 

His son. His firstborn.

A puff of hair on top if his head, like a downy chick. Murky blue eyes that were beginning to focus.  
Mercifully closed right now. 

Against his shoulder his little one lay. 

With a square of terry cloth slung casually underneath.  
Tiny whiffling noises coming from the infant as it dozed.  
Those Cupid's bow lips were moving slightly, as if still sucking on the teat. An empty bottle of milk that Sam expressed earlier, and left in the fridge, abandoned on the bedside table. 

oOo

This small but demanding person. 

Who didn't do much other than intermittent sleeping, punctuated by feeding and lusty wailing.  
And how did so much shit come out of such a tiny orifice?  
Malcolm had no fucking idea. 

Jamie Tucker, who guzzled his feeds so greedily, barely pausing for breath, then could sick back up a portion with the velocity of a trebuchet.  
Malcolm was quite used to his t shirts and tops having a yellowish trail across the shoulder and down the back. 

Baby sick. 

Was there another smell quite like it?  
Malcolm seemed to permanently have the scent under his nose. 

One minute he'd be sitting, a little fat Buddha on his father's lap, chin resting in one of Malcolm's large hands, gently being burped, next minute......trouser legs pebble dashed. Blurghggh! 

Or there would be ominous rumbles and gurgles from the little barrel tummy, like the distant swell of impending doom.  
Followed by farts that bubbled and roared.  
God help you if you weren't quick, or it would leak out of the sides of the nappy.  
Green, viscous, sticky.  
The fucking Quatermass Experiment!  
All the while a relieved and wistful smile of satisfaction on the tiny puckered face. 

Fuck, but Malcolm had been caught out a few times. 

He'd learned a great deal about the rudiments of changing a baby boy, and the pitfalls thereof.........and he'd learned it damn quick.  
Don't......whatever you do......expose the wee pecker to the cold air!  
Malcolm did, and lived to regret it.

A arc of pale urine.....spraying up and round and over, like the Trevi fountain.  
Right in the face, the hair, on the jumper. 

"He's just pissed in my mouth!" Malcolm groaned, as Sam squealed with gales of laughter. 

Naked torso, arms and legs kicking and flailing, gurgles and bubbles, feet up and held in his little hands.  
How do they even do that? 

The joys of new parenthood. 

oOo

Sam smiled to herself as she listened.  
Malcolm was singing softly. 

Singing and rocking and pacing, and rubbing.......

 

"Bye baby bunting. Daddy's gone a hunting.  
To fetch a little rabbit skin, to put my baby bunting in." 

He had a surprisingly tuneful voice.  
Tears pricked Sam's eyes. She turned away, overcome.  
Just as she was about to creep back to their room, he bent and lay down the infant gingerly on it's back.  
Covered him with a light blanket. Stepped back to watch for a few moments.  
To see if he woke. He sometimes did.  
Breath held.

Not this time. He slumbered on. 

Sam came behind her husband and threaded her arms around his middle.  
He jerked slightly in surprise. Unaware she'd been observing him.  
"Alright darling?" He whispered.  
"Mmm hmm! Woke and you were gone. Was he crying?" She murmured sleepily.  
"No, but I was awake. So I came in to check on him, then he woke up."  
Sam smiled, at the reply.  
"You fibber! You just came in because you couldn't keep away. And you disturbed him!"

"I can't help it Sam......look at him. Just look at him. He's so perfect. Hands, feet, little ears.....everything. Just so fucking amazing!" 

He looked down at his tiny wee bairn. Pudgy legs drawn up, arms raised above his head in surrender. Pink and round and shiny. Making noises now like a small piglet. 

"He's the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me, Sam. I can't believe he's mine. Ours.  
I just wish my mother could have seen him. She'd be the proudest woman in Christendom! I swear to God. She was so disappointed when I divorced, and I had no kids. She thought I'd blown my chance. For that matter.....so did I! I'm such a lucky fucker!" 

Sam kissed her husband warmly.  
"Leave him. Come on back to bed. Let him sleep." 

She took his hand and pulled him reluctantly from the cot side. Repeatedly glancing back at the sleeping form as they left the room. 

Snuggling warm into her arms. The fullness of her breasts against him.  
A deep sigh. Letting his eyes drift shut gratefully.  
Falling into a luxurious and rare slumber. 

oOo

Morning sunlight bought him back to wakefulness.  
It was a few seconds before he could work out where he was.  
He glanced sideways at the clock.  
Six ack emma.

Four hours! He'd gone four whole hours?  
Surely not. 

Sam wasn't there. He lay for a few moments, letting his brain gradually filter back to reality.

He was free, not a criminal, not going to prison, not guilty.....tick.

Lying in bed in a villa in Italy and he'd left behind his whole shite political career.......tick.

A married man with a fucking gorgeous wife......tick.

Next door, in his cot, was his baby son. His. Baby. Son. He was a Dad........tick. 

Fucking fuck me! 

Malcolm sat up, left the bed, and wandered through to the bathroom, discarding his boxers along the way, kicking them aside and stepping straight into the shower.  
Fuck the shave, he'd do that later. Stubble was trendy! 

Bath robe wrapped around his slender frame. Hair slicked back. No shoes.  
Out into the kitchen. Coffee machine on. 

Wandering through to the verandah, guessing she'd be there.

A treasured sight met his eyes.  
A vision that did odd things to him deep inside. Made him feel fucking strange. Giving him a lurch in his stomach every single time. 

His wife breast feeding their baby.

Sam was seated on the swing seat, her legs up and crossed at the ankle, back propped up on cushions.  
The pale early morning sun just beginning to warm the air.  
Not too hot, just pleasant.  
Insects buzzing in the bougainvillea flowers, birds flitting overhead.  
Cradling her child. Cooing to him.

Her night shirt unbuttoned at the front.  
Jamie's small furry head resting in the crook of her elbow. His face pressed against the swell of her bosom.  
The darkened nipple drawn into the tiny pink mouth. Bluish veins across her pale skin, the other breast leaking milk in anticipation of it's turn soon to come.  
Little mewing noises coming from the youngster, one fist opening and closing rhythmically as he suckled. The other clinging tight to Sam's index finger.  
Eyes shut, lost to the world.  
Only the warmth, his mother's proximity, and the comfort of sucking mattered at that moment, to this little one.

It was a sight that utterly slayed him.  
Bending, he kissed the small fragrant head. Then his wife's lips.  
She moved her legs to the side, making room for him. 

He snuck on the edge next to her, and leaned in. His head on her shoulder, one hand stroking his little pride and joy.  
Pulling him away, baby Tucker whimpered petulantly at the loss, as, wiping his milky chin, she swapped sides.  
A flare of frustration at being removed before he deemed he was ready......  
"Alright.....alright......greedy guts! We're just swapping over here!" She said softly, as she manoeuvred him onto the other elbow.  
His protestations ceased immediately as he latched on to the dessert course, grunting eagerly.  
"Such a gannet!" She smiled. Kissing the top of the little head. 

Malcolm caressed her bared chest with his index finger. Then kissed it sweetly, before pulling her shirt over to cover her, and laying his head back down gently with a sigh.

"My two boys!" Sam whispered quietly, teasing a hand through his hair, as their son continued to sup noisily. 

"You know I fucking love you both to bits, yeah?" Malcolm closed his eyes, so she wouldn't see his tears. 

 

Fin.


End file.
